Timber

By Snare-chan

Pairings: Implied (jealous) Rampage/Depth Charge
Ratings: T
Category(ies): General
Warning(s): Violence
Status: One-shot, complete
Summary: What Rampage does when he's let loose isn't well known, and for good reason, as a lot are going to find out.

Notes: This was a story I owed Nri for over a year and was able to finally give her for Christmas (and getting around to posting now, oops?). I wanted to make sure she received it before the New Year, and what better time to receive a gift than the holidays? Not as robot slashy as I had personally hoped for, but I think this worked out rather nicely nonetheless.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beast Wars; wish I did like everybody else. They should put BW in stock, then I'd buy it all!

No one knew what Rampage did when he was not being controlled – well, no, he was always under Megatron's thumb, both figuratively and literally speaking, so perhaps used would be more accurate – save the crab himself.

Such a concept was pretty standard protocol for the Predacons. Technically, their locations or extracurricular activities should have been, at the very least, documented somewhere, if not reported in to whoever was on duty at the time. But elsewhere, there was an unwritten rule to which all adhered, and it was that no one actually went through with such procedures. Even if someone did put forth the effort, due to being under closer scrutiny than normal, it wasn't unheard of for someone to merely lie. Besides, more often than not, Megatron knew what most were up to, though so few understood how he pulled that off.

And besides, it wasn't like Rampage was a Predacon by choice, so no way was he going to stick by that purple buffoon's policies if he could get away with it. None cared what he did or where he was, granted it was as far away from them as possible.

For such deliciously hateful and vicious creations, they were terribly easy to frighten, their conniving and strong wills bending at the sight of him, and merely due to his reputation! Why, without Megatron's authority over him, none could probably tolerate being in the same sector as him, and for obvious reasons. He did not wish to be in the same area as them, either, so he more than likely would have made short work of them. Even when it came to living space, he was terrible at sharing.

Thus, when given the chance to escape that steam-cooker of a ship, he greedily took it, whether he had something to occupy his time or not. A self-taught expert in improvising, he could easily find something to do. By this point in the war he'd discovered things to entertain himself, and while no one could say exactly what those things were, a couple of educated guesses could be surmised. The destruction of the local wildlife or blowing up landmarks that had gotten in his way were some, him skulking around for some well-suited places to hole up in was another, and, perhaps the first to come to mind, and probably his utmost favorite, was to meddle with Depth Charge.

The latter had, of course, been a particular obsession of his that had been meticulously cultivated for far longer than could be fathomed, much less considered healthy. Then again, there was not much about him that could be considered well. That is to say, Depth Charge took up as much of his thoughts as the reverse, even if the other wasn't present. The mere fact that it had gotten to this point with them was miraculous, considering their violent track record. With the manta ray so preoccupied with looking for him, it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths.

Today, it would seem, Rampage was the one to discover the hunter. Not by accident, perhaps, considering the blue Maximal was not exactly being secretive. The crab spotted him long before he heard him, the other's blue armor sticking out in stark contrast with the drab green and brown forestation that surrounded him – and if he was not mistaken, it would seem he was not alone. Already in his tank mode, it was simply a matter of letting some gears shift until his targeting lens was accessible, enabling him to get a closer view without risking getting near.

What he witnessed…admittedly had him puzzled. The fish was accompanied by, of all companions, the feline, who was neither being relentlessly dismissed nor suffering from any damages that would prevent him from returning to base. Initially, he assumed all the commotion spurned from them, then, was a harsh reprimand of some sort. But no…a discussion was taking place.

No, not even that.

Disgruntled, he switched to an even higher resolution, getting in so close that he could pick up on their faces, though sound was out of the question. Still, he could at least make out what they were doing…and as Depth Charge demonstrated a distinct, practiced motion with his fist, it become quite clear what that was. The manta ray was teaching the cheetah a thing or two about combat.

It was so entertaining, he laughed aloud.

Oh, how rich! The Marshal, the avenger, the hunter, reduced to babysitting! Why, coupled with the notion that he was trying to show the child a few tricks? Such a thing was purely comical! His dear, old friend, reduced to this…

The "student" was practicing medium-level combatant maneuvers, with failure as the main result. His impulsive, impatient nature increased his clumsy movements, too used to relying on luck and his guns; it made him move hand over foot in an attempt to rush through his laughingstock of a training session without absorbing what was being demonstrated.

This silly feline hadn't figured out yet that perfection couldn't possibly be obtained in a day. Depth Charge was twice the warrior that he could imagine, and not even he was without faults. Rampage's attempts at remedying that had taken deca-cycles of intense persuasion and guidance. Come to think of it, they did share a keen sense of rushing into matters – he'd have to break the other of that habit one of these days. On the topic of skill, however, the cat was far outclassed and couldn't hope to hold a torch to his mentor.

This was proven shortly afterwards when the cheetah stumbled through the process of mimicking a series of punches, a fist traveling too far from its mark and nearly relieving Depth Charge of his hip. The movement was easily deflected, and Depth Charge shook his head – a display of exasperation. He moved in closer, guiding him through the motions this round, leaning in closer and dwarfing him as he gave the other an idea of how the body should master the move.

Rampage snorted in disgust, the novelty of this show wearing off, and concluded that for either of them to get anywhere, obviously he must intervene. After all, there was no better experience than real life experience, and what better way to gain it than in battle? Cackling at his genius, machinery moved until the solid clunk of a missile being loaded was heard.

Already centered on his target, he merely had to confirm. As the scanners turned to an affirming red, Depth Charge tensed and looked up right at him, visor narrowing in that familiar, enraged way he reserved solely for him. But it was too late. Rampage let fly his weapon, the missile traveling at a clip fast enough to be spotted, but not avoided. An explosion followed that was powerful enough to uproot hundred-year-old trees and boulders weighing in the thousand pound range, and obliterating everything else in between.

He eased back on his haunches, admiring his work. A few bushes were on fire and a crater with a reasonable radius could be seen from miles away; altogether, it was a spectacular shot. Things began to settle in the distance, causing his antenna to twitch in curiosity and bemusement. Strange, by this point, his old friend would be-

A sharp projectile sped towards his head, causing him to drop to his belly. The object embedded itself in the rock wall behind him, twanging a tune as it shook up and down in place. Inclining his head enough to glance at it, a swift analysis proved that it was a javelin in the shape of a manta ray's tail.

"You've gotten sloppy since last we met, old friend."

Depth Charge, smoking in places, pulled himself the rest of the way up his perch and snapped back, "And you're still the pit-spawned, demented reject that you've always been!"

"I am rather apt at maintaining a capable level of consistency," Rampage gloated, transforming into his bipedal form and raising his arms out in front of him, as if he could show how true he'd remained to himself. "Just as you are always incapable of getting one step ahead."

"Can it, barnacle face," his opponent snarled, whipping out one of his pistols and opening fire.

Rampage easily sidestepped that attack and the next few, landing in a crouch. Reaching for one of his various grenades, he activated it with the click of a thumb and tossed it, Depth Charge catching it in one of his back "fins" and flinging it back, the device detonating to his left and taking out a good bit more of the vegetation. Built to take that sort of firepower, he raised an arm and took the brunt of the blast, flinching only marginally at the generated heat.

While he was distracted, Depth Charge…well, charged and tackled him to the ground, gun still at the ready. They rolled around the ground like rabid beasts, kicking and punching, Rampage even getting in a vicious bite to the other's shoulder in retaliation. It was obvious he took some pleasure from how it caused the other more than just mild discomfort despite how it left the crustacean open for a strike.

The manta ray tried to take his head out with the gun, but when he had to remove his elbow to take aim he lost some of his advantage. Rampage flipped them, ramming a knee in the other's midsection and crushing the wrist connected to the hand holding the pistol. A component snapped, Depth Charge's grip unwillingly going lax, and he got a sure shot to the other's face with his opposite fist, surprisingly powerful enough to turn Rampage's head, energon gushing from his now split mandibles.

"Freak! Get off of me!" In case his enemy didn't comprehend in which direction he was supposed to frag off, he placed another fierce punch to his face, and then again for good measure.

"Make me."

Either Depth Charge had learned a new trick in their absence, or something else was at work here, because as soon as the invitation was out there, Rampage was struck in the back of the head, causing him to cry out in alarm, the pain miniscule in comparison to his surprise. Slowly, he turned to see what caused the interruption, optics turning to slits as they beheld that blasted cat from earlier. He was the culprit, as indicated by how Cheetor was standing within striking range.

"Oh, I'd forgotten all about you," he declared idly, and meant it. In all of the excitement and his lack of reappearance when he'd made the initial strike, he'd assumed him offline.

Sad, that that wasn't the case.

In that moment when Rampage was not paying full attention, Depth Charge pulled out his second pistol and reminded him of his presence by planting it against his midsection. He let fire twice, sending him flying off a ways with the first shot and missing him entirely with the second.

"Still…sloppy," Rampage coughed, returning to his feet and readying to start round two when something shifted. Quizzically, he looked for the source of the noise. It wasn't apparent until the sound came a second time; a tree started to sway, carefully back and forth, and then tumbled straight for him. He gave out a small "hm," right optic twitching before crunch, it landed directly on top of him. Not the most dignified defeat he'd ever experienced.

Over the din of leaves settling and branches crunching, he heard Depth Charge claim, quite confidently, "I never miss, grease stain."

"Whoa! Nice shot," Cheetor could be heard saying next. "Did you see how I got him in the head back there?"

"Swing straighter next time."

Rampage proverbially rolled his optics, recognizing that disgusting tone in the other's voice – the closest someone would get to praise from the fish stick. The tree trunk shifted, someone on top of it, and the harsh cutting of foliage followed as an energon blade tore its way closer to him.

"Oh, here – let me help-"

"Kid," Depth Charge growled, hacking a tree limb off to his far right, "go play somewhere else now. The big boys are busy."

Seriously Rampage wordlessly agreed, carefully prying himself loose. Some large rock formations had kept the majority of the weight from outright crushing him, but the trees bulk had sunk him and the surrounding landscape caught taking its unexpected fall, his lower body pushed a good half a foot into the ground.

"Am I the only one here who noticed that I distracted him and saved your life back there, or what?"

"I had him exactly where I wanted him; everything was under control."

"He bit you!"

"I've survived worse."

This was true. Rampage fondly remembered a time when he had torn off the other's arm, the recollection not slowing down his progress any. Clawing his way free, he spotted a speckled leg in his field of vision – this, he concluded, was far too easy.

Rampage!

The internal communication was unexpected enough to get him to tense, a leaf crinkling as he jumped. There was a lot of cursing and groaning to be had, none of which he expressed in any fashion considering his circumstances, and he went through each motion simply in his head before tersely sending a response back.

What is it?

I have a special task for you. Report back to base.

Eyeing his entertainment, the two Maximals who were getting closer to his location, he asked, Right now?

Precisely.

The message was brisk, exact, and unquestionable, Megatron leaving zero clearance for argument. Which, of course, inspired him to quarrel, even though he knew quite well that a great deal of pain would be involved near the end of the argument. But the commander of the Predacons must have meant business because he cut their link before he could voice anything further. Conceited snob.

Sneering in dissatisfaction, he returned to the task at hand, the objective slightly altered. He had been fooling around prior to the call and had interest in continuing the little game, but now he would have to make his escape. There would be other opportunities, of this he guaranteed himself.

Reaching up through the ruined tree, he grabbed hold of one of cat's legs and wrenched it downwards, causing him to cry out in alarm and then pain as he was pulled a good ways through. Mercilessly, he twisted the limb to both hinder his escape and test whether he was truly and deeply stuck, which he assuredly was. Up above, Depth Charge could be made out yelling at him, and a few very calculated shots were made at his head. He readily took a blast to the shoulder, the sacrifice enabling him to reach up and repeat the process with his old friend and not letting go until he was up to – or down to, depending on which angle one was positioned – his chest plate.

"You cheating son of a-"

"Tut, tut, Depth Charge," Rampage mockingly reprimanded him, appearing at the far end of the tree – the part that was its tip and had once stood above them all – and planted a foot on it. "You're obviously getting soft, if you're falling for that trick. And after just seeing it! For shame."

"When we get out of here, we're so kicking your-"

"Humph. Perhaps next time, kitten," he interrupted, not meaning it in the least. If there was a "we" again, he'd make sure to finish the job before moving on to Depth Charge. With a cruel wave, he started to push the tree towards a nearby river. It wasn't small enough to be considered a stream; no one in their right mind would desire to travel it unless they were in prime condition, the multitude of rocks and fast currents promising to make this an…enjoyable ride.

"Rampage," his old friend growled, like someone about to punish a subordinate for not following orders; it was his lieutenant voice. "Don't you dare."

He cackled, hands on his hips, and gave the log one last shove with his foot, pushing it that one meter needed to plunge it into the water. Rampage's fun may have been interrupted, but he was able to leave feeling a tad bit satisfied, the sounds of Maximal screams and insults music to his audios.

The entertainment and the joy he gained from it didn't last long, a buzzing sound coming from the west alerting him to the incoming presence of Waspinator. He appeared overhead, halting clumsily and backtracking when he almost flew right past him.

"Crabby-bot!" he called out in greeting, notably keeping a distance.

"What do you want? Can you not see I'm busy?"

The flying Predacon paused to consider his question quite seriously, turning his head in multiple directions and taking in the carnage that was the result of his earlier fight with Depth Charge. They were gone now, and by all appearances, it was really anyone's guess as to what he could have been doing out there. No one typically stuck around him to see how he spent his time and lived to tell about it.

"Wassspinator sssorry, but got important messsage from Megatron!"

His expression shifted into that of something darker and more sinister than it had been a moment ago, sending the insect into a frenzy and panic.

"No sssshoot messsanger, no, no, no!"

"Why would I waste my time?" he snapped, losing patience. "And don't bother. I already know what he wants."

Waspinator could be picked out relaxing when he turned his back, content in the knowledge that he was in one piece and functioning as good as when he arrived.

"Oh, beg your pardon, but I just remembered: because I hate every last one of you."

That was his only warning as Rampage casually turned and blew the other clean out of the sky, a high-pitched squeal escaping the other as he crashed into every possible tree limb on his way down before collapsing into a smoldering heap at its base. One of his antennae twitched weakly, but he said nothing more.

Sighing contentedly, Rampage shouldered his gun and meandered towards Predacon headquarters, feeling quite pleased with himself.

Until the next time he grew bored.

-Fin-

A/N: Even in fanfiction, the universe continues to hate Waspinator.